The Offer
by Dylan Cruca
Summary: Early in Jane and Kurt's romantic relationship, someone makes an offer that prompts them to consider the status of their relationship, and where they're headed. A two-shot, in cannon.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-this story will be two parts, and takes place just a few weeks after Kurt and Jane started dating. This story is a bit heavier on the M-rated content than some of my other fics. This is a sort of prompt combo, including requests for early relationship and some work action.**

 **Wounded will (hopefully) update this weekend.**

* * *

Kurt and Jane, like so many new, initially slow-burning couples, got a little crazy once they were finally together. It had taken them forever to get there, to a point where touches could linger and kisses were shared without fear or hesitation. Those first three weeks were a blur of passion, sex, and emotion, interrupted only by those annoying times where the outside world crept in and interrupted their private lives.

He wasn't sure how long they could go on in this hot and heavy honeymoon stage, but he was hoping it would last for quite a long time.

Then Keaton showed up at the NYO, asking for a favor. There were teens, seven in all, from countries all around the world, who needed protection while they traveled. They were witnesses who had provided very important information to the CIA, and they all had to be transported across the country to a safe location until it was time for them to testify. They needed to be protected, and Keaton said the first person to come to mind was Jane. The case was a jurisdictional grey area, involving the CIA and FBI, so Keaton felt justified in asking for her help. Jane was a seasoned field operative, who could protect the witnesses if attacked, communicate with all of them without an interpreter, and she had a reputation for being good at dealing with victims. Of course Keaton mentioned that if she could get any more useful intel out of them, it would be appreciated.

After some hesitation, Jane agreed. She told Kurt she wasn't doing it for Keaton or to build alliances with the CIA, but because she knew how it felt to be lost and scared, and she knew she could treat those young victims the way they deserved to be treated. After all, she knew all too well the methods some members of the CIA employed to get information.

Kurt didn't like the thought of Jane on an assignment without him, especially not with Keaton. Keaton had developed a deep respect and appreciation for Jane, but it still made Kurt nervous. He would have no way to back her up, and she would be out of reach for four days. He wasn't really sure how to act regarding this separation. In truth, in any other relationship before this one, he wouldn't have moved things along so quickly. She was at his apartment every night, and woke there every morning. And it had all seemed so natural. If anything, it almost felt like things weren't moving fast enough.

But she seemed to be so adamant about going, and he knew how stubborn she could be when it came to helping someone in need. He also didn't know how much or how little he should say in this situation. Technically they'd only been dating a few weeks.

That night, she had to go back to the safe house to pack a few things, and Kurt went along when she'd invited. "About time you gave me some space," he teased.

"It was hard to tell you wanted space," she smirked as she glanced up from her bag. "Especially since you kept asking me to stay over."

"Nothing a man likes better than space," he mused.

She shook her head, "You sure about that?"

"Well," he raised his eyebrows, "there are _some_ things."

"Like what?"

He replied, returning her suggestive overtones, "Well, there's good beer. Movies with massive explosions. And…a rare steak. I think that's about it—" he chuckled as Jane threw a balled up sweatshirt at him before he ran after her, listening to her squeal when his fingers dug into the ticklish spot at the bottom of her ribs. He lifted her over her bag and dropped her onto the bed before he flopped down beside her.

"I see how it is," she said between gasps of laughter. "From now on, I'll start coming back here at night after _I_ get what _I_ want."

"Oh? What is it _you_ want?"

She leaned close to his lips, "At night I like to enjoy your huge…" she brushed his lips with her own, "hot…" she nipped his lip between her teeth, "satisfying…" she snaked down toward his ear and throatily whispered, "home cooked meal."

He flipped her over, grinning even harder when she laughed breathlessly at her own joke. "So that's why you've been hanging around!" he accused.

"Well yea," she answered, trying to look both serious and innocent. "What else could I possibly want from you?"

As things constantly did at that time, the playfulness turned to tenderness as they kissed and caressed on her bed. When he finally began to pull her shirt up high enough that her stomach was exposed, she put her hand over his and said, "If you wanted some time to yourself, you'd tell me, right?"

He paused and shook his head, trying to redirect some blood back to his brain so he could focus on her words. "Why would you say that? I'm the one who asks you to stay…every single night."

"Maybe you feel obligated to. I don't want you to feel obligated. Things have happened kinda fast."

He thought for a moment about trying to tease her, to joke and turn this into something lighter. She was leaving in a few hours, and he didn't want things to be strained or awkward between them, and at the same time, he didn't want to her to leave without knowing what he really thought. He braced his weight on his hands before he rolled, pulling her on top of him. With a look of complete sobriety, he replied, "Believe me, I asked because I wanted you to stay. And I want you to keep staying…if that's what you want, too."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. Actually, I might miss having you around tomorrow night. Just a little."

* * *

But he missed her a lot. The team had a case while she'd been gone, but even though he'd been busy, he still missed her. He sat at the conference room table after closing a case with Reade, Zapata and Patterson. They'd long since finished their meeting, but were discussing a few minor outstanding issues. Mostly Kurt was just wasting time until Jane returned.

The second she stepped off the elevator and came into his line of sight, he stood up, tapping the table with both hands before he said, "Anything else that can't wait?"

Zapata immediately said, "Yea, just a few things before we wrap up…"

Tasha was talking, but Kurt didn't hear any of it. He knew as the Assistant Director he should have been paying attention, but the only thing he could seem to focus on was Jane. She peered through the window from across the room, offering a little quirky smile accompanied by a half wave as she waited for him to join her.

"Hey boss, you listening?" Tasha said a bit more loudly.

"What?" Weller asked, turning to her and realizing that he'd ignored almost every word she'd said.

"Cut the man a break," Reade admonished, and Patterson gave a wide-eyed but silent agreement.

"We can talk later," Zapata finally admitted.

Kurt didn't even answer, hurrying out of the room and reminding himself that he did have to monitor his behavior somewhat while at work. She grinned more broadly as he approached, and all intentions for appropriate behavior were slipping from his mind.

He was almost half way to her when Hirst stepped between them, extending a hand to Jane in congratulations. Kurt hadn't heard how the assignment had gone yet, but it appeared to have gone pretty well, he thought, as a few more people came over to greet her. He tried to navigate his way over to her, but Keaton stepped right in front of Kurt's path.

"I need a minute," Keaton demanded.

Kurt looked toward Jane, then back at Keaton, and knowing their contentious past, Kurt wondered how much the two had fought in recent days. Hirst was already leading Jane away in the other direction, so Kurt answered, "Fine," nodding toward his office.

As soon as they walked in, Kurt was prepared to remind Keaton that Jane had every right to hate him, and the CIA, but the moment the door was closed, Keaton said, "She's amazing."

"What?" Kurt asked, not stunned by the statement, but definitely surprised about who was saying it.

"That woman. Jane. I've never seen anything like it. Do you have any idea what a tremendous asset she is?"

"I know. Better than anyone else," Kurt agreed. "I told you that when you questioned why we let her work cases, if you remember."

"I already knew she's excellent in combat situations, a really talented shot, and about the languages…but the way she talked that kid down. Not a single casualty, Weller!" Keaton said, sitting down and shaking his head. "It could have been one of our worst failures in years, and instead it was one of the biggest successes of my career."

"What the hell happened out there?"

"I'll let Jane fill you in on the details."

"Then why are you here?"

"We want her."

Weller laughed, then paused when Keaton's face remained stoic. "What?" Weller questioned, a bit nervously.

"The CIA needs her. Our _country_ …needs her. We're willing to do whatever it takes to get her."

"I can't speak for Jane, but I really doubt everything that's transpired between her and the CIA is water under the bridge."

"As you said, you can't speak for her. I'm just letting you know. Professional courtesy. And—"

The door swung open, and Hirst said, "Excuse me, gentlemen. Keaton, we're ready when you are."

Keaton smiled unnervingly, and Kurt felt certain his reaction was being expertly dissected. Keaton nodded goodbye and followed Hirst, and Kurt was suddenly alone again with his thoughts.

It seemed far too early in their romantic relationship to expect any long term answers from Jane, yet Kurt couldn't deny the sense of dread he felt at the thought of Jane joining the CIA and traveling the globe as an operative for a different agency. He'd worried about her departure only too recently, in the days before she confessed that she loved him, too, and made him happier than he'd even thought possible. And the only thing he'd wanted in recent days was her. Still, Kurt wasn't sure if this was the type of opportunity Jane had been waiting for, the type of thing that could change her life.

* * *

All Jane had wanted to do from the moment she'd returned was go home with Kurt. The accolades were nice, although in her mind unwarranted since she'd been hired to do a job and simply did that job to the best of her ability. She'd met with several people from the CIA, then Hirst, then Hirst and Keaton, and she hadn't even had the chance to talk to Kurt yet.

By the time the meeting with Hirst and Keaton had ended, it was after midnight. Kurt wasn't in his office, but she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't have left without her. On the edge of his desk was a post-it note with the word 'gym' scrawled across in his almost illegible handwriting. He wasn't in the gym either, though, so Jane went to the locker room.

When she strode back to his locker, she finally saw him. His shirt was soaked, and he looked completely worn out. She knew immediately that whatever workout he'd put himself through must have grueling. Often that was a sign that he was under a lot of stress. "Hey," she said, wishing to hell they were home where she could peel those clothes off and drag him to bed. She had a lot of built up tension she was dying to work off with him. After just a few weeks, she'd grown happily accustomed to having a satisfying sex life.

"Hey," he answered, somewhat tersely adding, "Give me five to grab a shower. Then we'll go."

"Wait," she argued with mounting irritation, wondering why he was playing it cool. "I missed you! I've been dying to see you, and all I get is 'I'm gonna grab a shower,'" she said in her best imitation of his voice.

"I missed you more," he answered with a fleeting smile, "but I'm really sweaty."

"I don't care," she countered, coming closer, fisting his shirt so he couldn't pull away.

"I'll get you all messed up."

"God," she said, her eyes skating suggestively over him, "I hope so."

He couldn't seem to suppress the smirk in response, and his eyes met hers and held in this pleading way that made her knees feel a little wobbly. He opened his mouth, and she waited for his words, but either he couldn't find the ones he wanted, or he wasn't ready to share them. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, his lips just barely touching hers while he purposefully kept his body at a distance. Although she appreciated the sentiment, she didn't want any separation, and at this stage of their relationship saw no need for such niceties.

She hooked her arms behind his neck and propelled herself forward, his back crashing into the locker behind him and slamming the door shut with an abrupt, metallic clap. The moment he pulled away, she said, "I know, I know. You need a shower." She sucked his lower lip between hers, laving it with her tongue, something that she had almost accidentally discovered really made him crazy, and then she nipped his lip and said, "So let's get you that shower."

Jane grabbed his shirt over her shoulder and turned, pulling him behind her as she walked. He managed to kick his shoes off before they entered the showers, and she gave a quick look around the room, pleased not to find anyone else there. She waited for the calm, collected Kurt she knew to remind her that he had a position of authority here, and couldn't be caught with her in the showers, but he seemed content enough to be led by her. In fact, he was the one who tugged his shirt from his body before pushing her up against the shower room wall.

This was the welcome she'd been waiting for.

She guessed that some responsible part of him was still functioning, because he lifted her and stumbled back to the very last shower stall, farthest away should anyone choose to enter at this late hour. While it was unlikely, it was certainly possible, but at least they wouldn't be seen.

He certainly wasn't being gentle with her clothing or making any real attempt to appear nonchalant about this moment, and that was the passionate response she'd longed to receive. She was pretty sure one of her buttons had actually popped off in the fray. God, she'd missed this even though she'd only been away for a few days, but something about Kurt had always made her feel so _desired._

That desire alone made being with him more exciting, but she had always had the feeling he was studying her, finding what she liked, and learning her responses. The whole process of exploration was just as arousing as the results. She wondered if he knew she'd been studying him as well.

She reached between them, unbuttoning and unzipping her pants and shoving them down to her knees before he stepped on them, pushing them down with his foot to try to rid her of her clothes without moving his lips from her neck. The pant legs stalled when they reached her still-laced boots. She heard her voice whispering his name without her permission, but when she ordered, "Quit messing around," her words had been intentional.

He leaned back, chuckling softly, "Did you miss me?"

Although his tone conveyed a joke, she grabbed his neck, locking his eyes with hers before she earnestly answered, "So much."

She waited for his response since it looked like he was formulating one, but instead he lifted her against him, crushing her back against the slippery tiles behind her while she shoved his shorts down. She pressed her hips forward toward him, and waited for the reaction she knew she'd hear. He growled with want, looking down to see that her pants were still around her ankles, and his want turned to something more like desperation. He put her down, pushing his hand to her stomach like he was propping her against the wall before he dropped to his knees and started unlacing her boots. She giggled at his haphazard and uncoordinated attempt to unlace them, and thought that he probably would have cut through the laces if he'd had his army knife with him.

"Want me to get that?" she asked.

"Ha," he declared victoriously when he got one boot unlaced and then worked on the other before they kicked her clothes out from under the showerhead.

His hands were around her waist before he was even fully standing. She felt him fumbling behind her back for the faucet and heard him hiss unhappily when the water that was just a bit too cold hit his shoulder. They soaped and washed each other, more as an excuse to touch and be touched than for the purpose of getting clean.

He dropped one knee to the ground and began soaping her legs. Although he didn't have a washcloth, he lathered his hands and then let them slip over her muscles, massaging and washing like he didn't have another purpose in the world. Growing impatient, she put her fingers beneath his chin to direct him back to his feet, but he lingered at the meeting of her thighs, leaning carefully closer until his tongue could find her flesh, darting forward and sliding slowly along her crevice, carefully sucking and teasing her clit with the amount of pressure his hours of research clearly dictated.

She tried to find a place to prop her foot because she wanted to give him unfettered access, but her foot slipped down the tiles almost immediately. He hooked her knee over his shoulder, leaving the other foot planted firmly on the ground, and he nestled comfortably between her thighs. His one hand wrapped around her hip, holding her up but tipping her forward in rhythmic pulses to meet his waiting mouth and probing tongue.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, hanging onto him like she feared he might actually disappear before the pressure shattered. And it did almost too quickly, the heightened arousal of her body cresting after hours of anticipation and imagination culminated in reality, with Kurt naked and attentive, lapping at her sex. "Damn," she sighed while she slid down the wall, her ass settling on his thighs while he knelt before her.

"Damn?" he asked, offering a self-satisfied smirk.

She bobbed her head and replied with a gentle giggle, "Didn't think I'd be done that fast."

"You're not done," he said, "not yet."

He lifted her higher, angling her toward him so he could plunge into her body without any unnecessary delay as he bit his lip with eager anticipation.

"No," she suddenly said, and he appeared to be thoroughly stunned.

"What?"

"I mean…wait a minute."

"Oh," he replied, nodding, "Too soon?"

"No," she answered, standing suddenly, her feet on either side of his knees before she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up, too.

As soon as he was standing, she began to drop down in front of him, and he moaned involuntarily as he watched. She shot a look at him, preemptively telling him to shut up before he suggested that reciprocation was unnecessary. He often did, even though she could hear the underlying hope that typically coated those words.

"I missed you so much," she sighed while she touched him, wrapping one finger at a time around his cock until thought evaporated from his eyes.

This was part of what she loved about being with him, taking a man who was constantly planning or preparing, looking for danger or clues, and making his brain shut down entirely. His amazing instincts and excellent split-second decisions were improved by the fact that he was always paying attention to the world around him and all of the players. He was, almost at every moment, an FBI agent. It was fun to make him forget that sometimes, to take someone so composed and focused, and completely destroy his concentration.

And she was going to do just that, making sure that the only thought he could possibly have was this moment shared between them. She knew what he liked enough by then to have him melting to the ground in moments, if that was what she really wanted. But she wasn't in any hurry.

She carefully licked his shaft, like she was painting every centimeter with her tongue, studying every vein and ridge with equal attention. She expected him to direct her at some point, to encourage her to hurry up with a gesture, or maybe even a verbal command or plea, but he stood there, leaning one flat palm against the wall for balance.

When she looked up at his face, his head was tipped back slightly, his body displaying a combination of extreme tension and pleasured enjoyment. The hand that hung patiently at his side reached up and cupped her face as he said, "Babe, god, that… that feels really good." His voice was so heated yet so vulnerable, and he barely sounded like that FBI agent anymore.

"Hmmm," she hummed, acknowledging his words but unwilling to stop what she was doing for even a moment. She curled her lips around his sex and took him into her mouth as deeply as she could.

"Woah," he rumbled, and breathed in a sharp hiss as the vibrations from her hum and the warm, wet way her mouth surrounded him nearly tipped him over, his body so full of pleasured tension that it almost appeared painful.

She moved purposefully, allowing her mouth and hand to cover his entire sex, conforming to the shape of him with each stroke. His breath began to quicken, groans and stuttered breaths betraying any semblance of calm, and the next time she slid her lips along his length, moaning at the taste and feel of him, she heard him grunt her name in an obvious warning.

His warning only encouraged her, made her want to unravel him even harder, so she picked up her pace just slightly and felt his resistance shatter. He growled as he came, his whole body consumed by the building excitement that finally sprung free, his hand slapping the tile as he came.

If anyone had managed to enter the showers unnoticed by Jane, she knew they would have certainly figured out what had been going on. Kurt whispered an almost silent noise of appreciative relief as his pleasure receded, and for a moment, she thought he might actually drop to the ground.

She stood, tenderly wrapping her arms around him as his automatically curled around her and held her close. He buried his face between her neck and shoulder, pressing a kiss to her skin while he steadied himself.

He'd barely allowed himself to recover when he pulled her leg around him and began sliding his fingertips up her thigh. She shook her head and reassured him, "You don't need to do anything right now."

"I want to be inside you," he replied with determination, moving his hand toward her sex, making it clear that even if he wasn't fully recovered yet, at least his fingers could be inside her.

"Mmm," she moaned approvingly, "I want that, too." He resumed immediately, but she carefully took his wrist and stilled it, adding, "Take me home?"

"Right now?" he replied.

"I want to be with you. In our bed."

"I could do that," he smiled, clearly pleased by the suggestion, and she wondered if he'd noticed her intentional use of the words 'our bed' or if her meaning had escaped him.

"We can go home and fuck each other into oblivion without worrying that someone might walk in. Then I can sleep next to you, naked. We can wake up tomorrow and have lazy morning sex, sweet and slow like we don't have anywhere else to go, nothing to do."

"I could handle that," he said numbly, like his mind was already gearing up for the next round.

They finished up in the shower, and she felt him watching her, like he did so often, with a combination of attraction and adoration, but she had a feeling there were other thoughts rattling around in his head that he hadn't shared. After all, they really hadn't had much time to talk since she'd gotten back.

As they got dressed, she noticed that he was still quiet, and she wasn't sure if it was post-orgasmic brain fog or something more.

"Hey," she said, waiting for him to look at her. "Everything okay?" she asked.

"Of course," he practically scoffed while they walked to the elevator. As the doors shut, he added with a tone of deliberate casualness, "So…Keaton said you were great out there. Everything went okay?"

"Yea," she replied matter-of-factly. "It went fine."

"He, uhh…mentioned that the CIA is interested in hiring you."

"Yea," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"Well…are—are you thinking about it?"

She stalled, staring at him, trying to read him and feeling at a loss. Moments earlier, she felt like she knew him better than anyone, and now she couldn't even discern a tone in his words. Her mind flew in a thousand directions. Was he worried she might leave? Did he want her to go? Did he think it was a bad idea for them to work together now that they were in a relationship?

"I mean…" she started, finally answering, "I should at least think about it. Right?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N-Sorry for the delay. I have had a ridiculously hard time with this second chapter. I will try my best to get the next update for Wounded out as soon as I can (if I can avoid overthinking it to death). Thanks so much to everyone in this fandom. It is always such a pleasure to be here.**

 **Just a reminder that this one is M-rated.**

* * *

By the time Kurt and Jane were almost at the apartment, it was after 1:00 am. They were walking down the street when Jane yawned. Kurt glanced over at her and asked, "Sleepy?"

"More hungry than sleepy," she answered, glancing down when he took her hand and pulled her to the left at the next corner. "Where are we going?" she questioned, feeling some frustration because after traveling for a few days, she was ready to be home. She wasn't completely sure what having a "home" felt like, but when she thought about returning to Kurt's apartment, it felt different, cozier, than any place she remembered living.

"To eat. You said you're hungry," he replied, taking her duffel bag from her shoulder and slinging it over his.

She considered protesting, but he seemed excited about wherever they were going, and it felt like she hadn't eaten in ages. "Wow…we've been together almost a month and you're already done cooking for me?" she jabbed. "I've heard women complain that guys get lazy after they've been dating a while, but I thought 'a while' meant longer than a month."

He stopped abruptly, looking at a rowhome with an unassuming sign in the window. He shook his head and replied, "This isn't laziness. This is me…being an amazing boyfriend."

Jane smirked and rolled her eyes, jokingly mustering her most patronizing tone, "Of course you are."

"It's true. See, I know you. And I know us. We'll go home and I'll start making something…and I'll never finish because you find me irresistible."

"You're _okay_ …" she teased. "It's the apron I find irresistible."

"Hmmm," he thought for a moment, then shook his head stubbornly, "it's me…wearing the apron."

She smirked and nodded, "You may have _something_ to do with it."

"Well, either way, I know what will happen…we'll get distracted and you won't eat…and your growling stomach will wake me at some insane pre-dawn hour, and I'll have to drag myself out of bed to feed you. We'll stop here first so that once we're home, I can devote myself completely to satisfying your other hungers."

She smiled and bobbed her head. "You should have said _that_ in the first place," she countered, heading up the front steps and through the door.

The outside of the building looked like an ordinary brick rowhome, and once they were inside, it still seemed more like a family gathering at a private residence than a restaurant. Because the old rowhome was so narrow, there were only two rows of tables and chairs, one on each side. The tables and chairs were all wooden and aged, and the sets were mismatched, a range of tones and styles. Artwork hung on the wall, probably from local artists. A very limited bar was set up in front of the stairwell, the stairs behind the bartender served as shelves for the bottles.

Glancing down at a menu once they'd chosen a table, Jane said, "Is this French? I don't know which dishes I like."

He leaned over the table, his stare as intense and unrelenting as it always seemed to be as of late. "How many things have I asked you to try that you didn't like?" he questioned. "You're gonna love it. I'll order us something to share, and if you don't like it, I will personally make you something at home."

"Hmm," she said. "Okay. Go for it."

He disappeared for a few minutes before returning with two glasses and a carafe of wine. She hadn't thought of herself as much of a wine enthusiast before, but Kurt sometimes brought home a bottle, and she enjoyed all of them so far. But this wine, whatever it was, was a work of art. She finished the first glass a bit too quickly, and felt a little more relaxed shortly after drinking it.

"The assignment. It was rough, wasn't it?" he asked.

"For a few minutes, I wasn't sure how many of us were going to make it out alive."

"But you all did. Thanks to you," he said, gesturing his glass toward her.

"To top it off, I was completely unprepared for what it would mean to take care of seven teenagers for four days without a break. It's not the type of assignment I'm used to. Who knows…maybe I just completely lack maternal instincts."

She watched while Kurt took a big swig of his drink and then swallowed slowly, as if he were processing her words. He attempted to adopt a casual expression that made him look more uncomfortable than anything, and finally he said, "Sounds pretty horrible. Does that mean no kids in your future?"

"Oh," she said, shaking her head, feeling self-conscious, "Who knows. Maybe someday. But, I probably wouldn't start with seven teenagers."

"Got thrown right in the fire with that one! Nature is kinder than Keaton. You start with helpless and clingy, and work your way up to resentful and secretive. And, not that you asked my opinion…" he began.

"What?"

"You're fiercely protective. Kind. Strong. Empathetic. You really care…even for people you barely know. You'd be a really great mom…if you ever decide you want that."

"That's sweet."

"No. It's sincere. And it's not just me. Even Allie said she thinks you'll be great with our daughter."

Jane stared as she considered his confession, noting the way he seemed to blush enough that she could tell in the dimly lit room, once he'd realized she was staring. "Oh," Jane said, running her finger along the base of her glass, "you told Allie about us?"

"Well…yea. I mean, she told me about Conor. I agreed to tell her if I was seeing someone and it became serious…or—or…if it was someone who would be involved in the kid's life. You know," Kurt floundered as he searched for words, then paused, seemingly to assess her. "Are you mad that I talked to her about us?"

"No," Jane shook her head. "And you told her that we're serious?"

"Yea," he answered, then winced, "In my book, love is pretty serious. We _are_ serious. Aren't we?"

"Yea. I thought so. I mean…it's just we—we haven't really talked about it."

The food came and interrupted the conversation, and Jane thought Kurt looked extremely tense, his brows furrowed and jaw clenched. She felt every bit as anxious as he looked. Questions lingered in her mind, and, while he was explaining something about the dish that she wasn't quite hearing, she blurted, "Kurt, do you think I should take the job with Keaton or not?"

* * *

Kurt's mouth felt abnormally dry when he tried to swallow, and he realized that it had been hanging open since she had asked her question. He put down the knife he'd been using and said, "That's not really my decision to make."

Jane's eyes narrowed with dissatisfaction as she looked down at dinner. She appeared so uncertain, and sad, and he wished he could read her mind. For a moment, he thought about telling her about the reason why he'd been getting texts from his sister all night, but it didn't seem like the right time.

"What's this?" she asked. He thought she was asking a question about their relationship, but she was pointing at the plate. "Some kind of quesadilla?"

"Crepe. This one is savory. This is dinner. Cheese and other fillings…actually, I guess it's a little like the French version of a quesadilla, but the flavor's really different. Try it." He grabbed his knife and sliced a piece before he gestured toward it. He watched her for a reaction as he asked, "So…what do you think?"

"It's good," she said after a bite, her reaction sounding less enthusiastic than he'd hoped for, but he was relatively certain her tepid response was influenced by their recent discussion.

"This one is dessert," he said, pointing to the other one with his fork. It's…" he stared for a second, watching the way her eyes seemed distant. He hated the thought that he might be responsible for her somber mood, and finally he said, "I don't want to hold you back, Jane. You deserve to have whatever life you want. If you want a job with the CIA, travel the world…then you should do that."

"Hold me back?"

"Yea. Too much of your life has been decided by other people. I don't want to ruin this opportunity, if that's what you want. If you turn it down just for me, one day you'll resent that."

"Kurt," she began with a ridiculously long pause, fiddling with the thick cloth napkin by her plate, giving his mind far too much time to worry over her response. "You don't hold me back. If we _are_ serious about this relationship, then your opinion _should_ matter."

"Okay," Kurt said, feeling a bit out of his depth as he tried to fight the urge to throw it all out on the table. This was tricky ground, but if there was anything he'd learned, his relationship with Jane couldn't have walls. "I would miss you if you went to the CIA. You'd be traveling a lot, and I like it when you're around. I also don't think you should have to work for Keaton, because it seems to make you feel really uncomfortable. But if you want to do it, I'd understand."

He waited for a response, and it seemed to take an eternity yet again, but when she looked at him, her eyes didn't look so distant anymore.

"Thank you for answering," she earnestly responded. "And that's good…because I don't really want to go. I don't want to work with Keaton."

Kurt felt a wave of relieved happiness surge, and he said more loudly than intended, "That's great!"

"Hirst has offered to help me get into the next class at the academy, but…I'm just not sure what I want to do yet. I feel like I should know by now."

He reassuringly replied, "You have time to figure it out."

"What I do know…is that I like being with you. When I was gone…" Jane sighed, appearing to be gathering her own confidence.

"Tell me," Kurt calmly encouraged, putting his hand over hers on the table and brushing his thumb over the back of her hand.

"I kept thinking that I couldn't wait to get back to New York and see you. And, for the first time, I actually said I wanted to go 'home.' I haven't felt like I've had a home since…I don't remember when, but being with you…I think that's what home feels like. And I like that feeling."

"So stay," he answered, the part of his brain that was stupidly, thoughtlessly in love answering before he could hold back. "Bring your stuff _home_. You don't have to leave."

Jane laughed, and it felt like the sound traveled into him. "You're kinda the poster boy for committed bachelors."

"No I'm not," he argued, laughing at the ridiculousness.

"Would you like to discuss your recent dating history?"

He shook his head, "Not particularly."

"That's what I thought," she victoriously replied, as though she'd made her point.

"Hey, I don't have a problem with commitment," he defended. "I was looking for the right woman. And since you were born half-a-world away, it took me some time to find you."

"Nice save, Weller. But did you actually find me? Or was I giftwrapped and labeled for you in Times Square?"

Ignoring her teasing, he replied somberly, "You were. But a lot has happened since then. And I like to think I found _you._ And you found _me_." Feeling a bit overly exposed, he tried to lighten his tone as he said, "Anyway, like I was saying, I don't have a problem with commitment."

"From the information I've gleaned from Sarah and other people who know you, you have a reputation for…avoiding long-term commitments," she smiled sweetly at her own phraseology. "So I didn't want to crowd you or rush it. I thought we were taking it slow."

"We are?"

"I don't know!" she said, laughing through her mild frustration. "We didn't really talk about it."

"Yea," he conceded, "there hasn't been a lot of talking."

"Not that I'm complaining," she flirted. "I wasn't really worried about it until tonight. But once the job offer came, it made me think about all of this."

"Trust me, there were a few lonely nights where I thought we were taking things way, way too slow," he shot a mischievous glance and watched her slightly shy response. "I want you to feel at home," he answered more seriously. "If you want to, I think you should stay at the apartment with me. Get the rest of your stuff out of the safe house."

"I'd like that."

"Good," he said. Deciding it was time to breathe for a minute, he added, "Come on, let's eat."

They split the first crepe, watching it quickly disappear from the plate as they finished another glass of wine. His phone kept vibrating, it had been all through dinner. He glanced at it a few times, confirming what he already knew: It was Sarah. Although he'd muted the sound, Jane kept glancing at his phone every time he looked at it or she heard it vibrate, but each time she asked, he'd reassure her it was nothing he had to take care of immediately. He didn't want her to see what he and Sarah had been texting about.

"What's this one?" she asked, poking a pile of whipped cream with her fork.

"This is the best. Like dessert and breakfast in one dish. Close your eyes," he suggested, not wanting her to see the contents so she could simply enjoy the taste.

She hesitated, but did as instructed, and the second he put a piece against her tongue, he watched her fingers begin to drum with approval. "Oh god," she said. "Seriously. This. Wow."

"Exactly," he said before taking his own bite. "Nutella, strawberries and bananas, all shoved in this thin little pancake."

"How did I not know this existed!" she gasped.

* * *

The rest of their late night snack was full of grins and long gazes until they began the short trip home. When he casually grabbed her hand, swinging their arms while they walked, Jane felt a sense of peace and belonging that he seemed to bring her that she hadn't felt in her memory.

"Since this seems to be the night for serious conversations…" he began, glancing over and waiting for her consent.

She felt a pang of nervous energy, "Should I be worried?"

"No. When the baby's born, I'm taking a month off to visit. To help out and have some bonding time."

"I completely understand. You afraid I'll redecorate while you're gone?"

"I want you to come with me," he answered, as calmly as if he were offering her a glass of water.

"I couldn't," she responded, her head feeling woozy as she wondered if it was from the subject or the wine. "That's family time. Like you said, she should bond with her parents."

"That's kind of my point," he said, turning and facing her as they stood outside of their apartment. "She can bond with her mother and father, step-father and…future step-mother. The first few weeks are important."

Jane felt completely confused, for some reason initially trying to figure out how a step-mother could be added to this already complicated equation. "I don't…" she started and then a realization began to dawn, but it seemed too unlikely to be true.

"You should be there," he confirmed. "I want you to know my daughter. I want her to know you. And it's going to be important, because I hope you're going to be around for a very, very, very long time."

"I'm sure Allie doesn't want me there so soon after—"

"Well, that was something we discussed when I called her. I said I thought you should be there. She agreed. She said…" he started yet again, and faltered, this time taking out his phone and looking at the screen.

"What did she say?" Jane asked, completely irritated that he had ignored his buzzing phone for quite a long time and had decided he _had_ to check it in the middle of _this_ conversation. "Is it that important?" she impatiently questioned, pointing at his phone.

"Yea," he replied in soft monotone as he swiped screens.

"If you have to go to work, go," she said, surrendering. "It's fine. We can talk tomorrow."

She started to walk toward their door, and when he grabbed her wrist and turned her back, she was stunned to find herself suddenly facing him again. "I said it's important. I didn't say it's work," he said with an apologetic smile. "Allie agreed. She and Conor have a guest suite over the garage, they must have quite a place out there. But they offered it to us. I want to share that first month with you."

"And if it doesn't work out with us? You'll see me in baby pictures, and I'll be mixed up in those memories and—"

"Stop," he interrupted. "If we're willing to make it work…to talk when we're uncomfortable and fight through the bad times to stay together…it _will_ work."

"You can't be certain that—"

"I can," he interrupted again, turning the screen of his phone toward her. "I have never been so sure about anything in my life."

She squinted at the screen, looking at two different angled shots of an elegant but simple diamond ring. "This is the one I chose," he said, his voice sounding softer and more timid than normal. He flipped the screen back and started looking through. "Sarah said it makes me look cheap. She said I should get you this one," he showed her another. "You can choose. The one I like…I picked it because I thought you'd like it. And I could picture it on your finger."

"I like yours better," she answered, making a simple statement of fact.

"I want to marry you," he said, the nervous tone in his voice continuing. "For me, _that_ is where this is going. You don't have to answer now. I want to ask you the right way. But you seem to doubt my sincerity and just how serious I think this relationship is, and there is no doubt in my mind…it's very serious. It might seem fast, but we've been through a lot, things most couples never have to go through, and if we still love each other after all that…well, it seems like we've really got something here. I've never thought about getting married before. And now, I can't _stop_ thinking about it. And—"

"Yes," she said loudly, her voice echoing against the brick building behind him.

"I'll propose the right way. In a better place, at a better time, with an actual ring instead of a picture."

"This is the perfect place," she corrected. "This is where I first kissed you. And you kissed me back. I can't think of anything more romantic than that."

"I don't have the ring yet," he said, his skin flushed with excitement and his grin threatening to consume his face.

"It's okay if you're not ready to do this officially yet—"

"I'm beyond ready. I'd marry you tonight," he replied, and although it appeared to be a joke, Jane thought there was truth in his words.

"You really mean it? This isn't just because of the job offer and—"

"I wanted you to decide about the job first. I want you to be happy. But since you've already decided…" He took her hands in his, dropping her duffel on the ground, and he said, "I really do want to marry you."

"Me too," she said, tears welling slightly in her eyes. "So…we're engaged?" she asked, giggling a little with delight and the silliness of trying to figure out if, after this strange evening, they were officially betrothed.

"Yea," he answered, "but we have to go pick up the ring tomorrow."

"We can just print the picture on your phone and tape it to my finger," she teased.

With a severe and determined look, he replied, "You deserve something beautiful. Something real."

* * *

Kurt couldn't possibly find a word to describe how he felt. He noted relief that she was staying, excitement and joy that she'd agreed to marry him, exhaustion from a long day, and this overwhelming love for her that made all of those feelings shake and zing through his body, creating a different feeling that was almost something new entirely.

He grabbed her hips, yanking her closer as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, lifting her so they were at eye level. He took a few awkward steps toward the door, because getting to the door was secondary to kissing her. He reached out for the keypad, inputting the code incorrectly the first two times he tried, and finally getting it the third time. He carried her through the door, bumping his shoulder into the door jamb on the way in. As the door closed behind them, he pulled away and said, "Damn…your bag."

"What?" Jane asked, her voice almost sounding drugged and disoriented. She reached behind her, like the pack was still on her back.

Kurt put her down on her feet and hurried outside, finding the bag right where he'd left it a few minutes earlier, back before she'd promised to be his. He scooped it up and half jogged to the door where Jane waited, holding it open for him. She was grinning, biting her lower lip.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I was just thinking about what would have happened if we'd forgotten it, and left an unattended bag in the street. And they called in the bomb squad…"

"Right outside our front door?" Kurt chuckled. "For some reason, I don't think the NYPD or the FBI would see the humor in that."

"We could investigate from the window," she answered, looking happier than he'd seen her since her return, and her happiness made him feel like, in spite of their complications, everything was right in his world. She added seductively, "That is…if you'll hear your phone while I'm doing what I'm planning on doing to you."

He felt himself grinning a numbly stupid grin, but certainly didn't care. The only clear thoughts he had were about his love and attraction for the woman in front of him.

She kissed the grin right off his face. They stumbled slowly to the elevator, banging their bodies and the duffel into walls since they lacked all coordination. Jane slapped the controls until the door opened and they poured inside.

When the doors didn't close behind them, they saw one of the neighbors step on board. Kurt and Jane kept one arm around each other's waists, but stood with their backs against the elevator wall respectfully. The man was wearing rumpled scrubs, and Kurt remembered that he was an intern at the hospital, or something like that, and must have been crawling home in the early hours after a long shift. "Hey, man," the intern said without looking at the couple. "How've you been?"

Kurt wondered if the guy had even noticed what he'd interrupted. It seemed pretty clear the question was a matter of politeness, and although the two had shared an elevator and even a beer one night, they certainly weren't friends. In spite of the fact that Kurt wasn't typically much of a sharer of information, he found himself saying, "Been busy. Got engaged."

The intern turned, finally, and looked at Jane, tilting his head as he looked her over. Kurt felt Jane tense and he wondered what she was thinking. The intern nodded at Kurt, smiling pleasantly, and simply replied, "Congratulations, man."

Kurt could see Jane blush before he even looked at her. The bell dinged for their floor, and Kurt and Jane stepped out, arms still around each other, Kurt carrying her duffel. "Good night," Jane said, a bit timidly as the intern offered a friendly and suddenly less exhausted wave goodbye.

"He's nice," Jane said while Kurt unlocked the apartment door.

"Nice?" Kurt asked, pushing the door and letting it swing open while he gestured for her to enter first.

"Yea. Friendly."

"He wasn't being _friendly_ , he thinks you're hot. And he's definitely right."

"Not everyone thinks about me the way you do," she teased while she quickly untied her laces and kicked off her boots, wiggling her toes against the floor like she was verifying that she was actually home.

"What? Who? Round up these idiots and bring 'em in for questioning," he playfully demanded.  
"They clearly can't be trusted."

Jane took her bag from his hand and said, seductively, "In order to celebrate our recent engagement…"

"Yea?" he anticipatorily responded.

"I'm going to start my laundry."

* * *

She leaned over the back of the sofa and unzipped the bag with her clothes in it, wondering how long it would take before he called her bluff.

"Come to think of it…that would probably work better for me," he said, offering an exaggerated yawn that she saw out of the corner of her eye, knowing that he was teasing her right back.

"I figured…since I'm in much better shape than you, you'd tire out faster."

"Oh!" he laughed at the jab, wrapping his hands around each of her hips, "but that's not what I meant. I'm not tired."

"Right. Sure," she taunted with purposeful disbelief.

"I meant," he said as he pulled back on her hips until she was against him, "that I can have my fun, get what I need, while you sort your laundry. As long as I'm satisfied, that's all that really matters, right?"

She shot a scowl over her shoulder even though she knew he was joking before she countered, "Helping to prepare me for the joys of married life?"

"Exactly," he said, laughing so honestly at her glare that she found it hard to squelch her own giggle. He added, "It's gonna be a lot less work for me, so I'm really looking forward to it."

"You're a terrible liar," she admonished, although she stood upright and pressed her back against his chest, watching while his hands automatically reached around her body, settling on her ribs.

"Hmm," he thought, his hum tickling her ear as his lips roamed her neck. "What makes you think I'm lying?"

"We've had a lot of sex so far, don't you think?"

"Better than average," he groaned while she draped one forearm behind his neck. "Work has kind of gotten in the way from what I would rather be doing full-time."

"Well, in a few very intense weeks, I have learned a lot about what you like."

"Tell me," he said, stopping her hands when she reached for the bottom of her shirt. "Let me do that?"

"Okay," Jane replied with several small nods, feeling her heart picking up its rhythm in anticipation.

"Now, what were you saying?"

"I see the look you get when I respond to you. I know which sounds I make drive you crazy. I know how much you enjoy getting me off. And it's not just because of some kind of pride thing…it's because you really like making me feel good. Don't you?" She paused, a tight lipped smile on her face while she glanced over her shoulder and watched his thoughts pass behind his eyes.

She felt him finally nod his head, just barely moving. "I love it. I love the moment when you really start to let go. I love when you come and you hang onto me like you _can't_ let go. And I love afterwards, when you curl around me…like you don't _want_ to let go."

She realized after a few heartbeats that she was stunned to stillness, surprised in some way not that he understood what she meant, but that he was willing to verbalize it so clearly. "Yea," she finally answered, when she felt like the tightness in her throat would allow her to speak. "You like making me feel good almost as much as I like making you feel good."

The corner of his mouth twitched only slightly against her jaw, and she knew that he found some amusement at the challenge, but his reaction lacked its typical direction since his energies were clearly focused on something other than competition. To her surprise, he added softly, "It's like, for a little while, the only thing in the entire world is you and me."

"And the past disappears," she agreed, noting that sometimes being with him was one of the only things that silenced the guilt that she felt over earlier misdeeds. "And the future isn't something to worry about."

The conversation was enticing to both soul and body, and Jane felt the usual prevailing pull between them, linked as undeniably as the moon and tides. There was something so consuming about being wrapped in his arms, his body firmly protective behind her, his hands persistently holding her closer, his breath skimming over her shoulder. Her heart felt full and fluttery, arousal hotly thumping between her thighs with each pump of the muscle in her chest.

His hand moved over her ribs, pressing determinedly up over her sternum between her breasts, continuing over the graceful span of her neck to hold her face, turning her so he could kiss her over her shoulder. She was aware of the way he was walking slowly, without ever ignoring her body or her mouth, and she expected he'd lead her to their room. Not that she cared at all about where they were going as long as he kept touching her.

When they turned off in the hall, she opened her eyes and saw they were in the spare room, but before she could ask what they were doing, he hoarsely explained, "I need to see you _and_ touch you."

He shoved the door closed with his foot, and his intentions became clearer when she saw the full length mirror that hung on the back of the door.

She wondered if this was what he'd been planning when he'd asked earlier to be the one to remove her clothes. Anticipating a somewhat furtive removal of her shirt, she loosened her arms to make it easier. Instead, his left arm still around her, his hand surrounding the right side of her waist, his free hand went to the back of her neck.

With his fingers bent at the knuckles, he dragged each one and the pad of his thumb up her neck, pushing her hair up and holding it at the back of her head. His mouth pressed tiny, tender kisses from the base of her skull down each vertebrae as his nose followed the trail with a scant trace. Her skin prickled, emerging from the epicenter of the first kiss at the very top of her spine and quickly covering her skin.

Her nipples tightened, pressing against her bra, not wanting but needing contact other than the cotton stretched tightly over them. As he stood fully, his palms both found her hips and circled to the front, the backs of his hands pushing her shirt up and over her head as he touched her bare skin beneath. Her voice betrayed the heaviness of her arousal as she said, "Please," but she wasn't even completely sure if she was asking him to hurry or slow down.

She looked at his face in the mirror, but found that in spite of his easygoing pace, he looked anything but patient. Kurt appeared to be just as desperate to be inside her as she was to have him there, his eyes tracing hot paths over her body like he was planning every strategic move. When his eyes met hers in the mirror again, he locked on her face, pulling her bra over her head before his gaze drifted lower to her breasts like he couldn't look anywhere else.

Trying to direct him with her eyes, she practically ordered him to touch her, to roll or suck or caress. She felt her next inhalation hitch as his hand moved higher, but she groaned in disappointment when his thumb and forefinger stopped, forming a u-shape around the lower edge of her breast that didn't progress any higher. In retaliation, she reached behind her, pressing her hands flat against his ass to push him forward as she rocked her hips back against the front of his jeans. She watched still as his eyes squeezed shut at the sensation of such undeniable pressure against his groin while he pushed against the firm cushion of her ass. Each time she rocked back, she felt him grow harder, wondering why in the hell he didn't unzip his jeans, because the confines of his pants couldn't have been anything but uncomfortable and irritating to him.

Ignoring her tightly peaked nipples, he reached to the button of her pants, both of his hands popping them open before tugging the zipper down. His right hand slid down the lower part of her tummy, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her panties. Only his middle finger reached down the center line of her body until it found the gentle parting of her flesh.

With one smooth, continuous motion, the tip of his finger led the way lower while the entire digit slid between her wet folds. Finally he reached her core, his finger pressing into the pool of moisture that awaited him before he pushed into her body. The palm of his hand pressed against her front, conforming to her contours, while his long, thick finger moved inside her.

Her body was confined between his arm and his front, his finger moving persistently inside her while his pelvis pressed against her back. She opened her eyes, the sight of his hand disappearing into her pants almost toppled her over the edge. "Kurt, come on," she half-griped, half-praised. "Don't you want me?"

She expected him to be smirking at her, to declare some sort of victory, but his mouth hung open and his breath was obviously ragged, his eyes swimming in pools of adoration before he answered, "God yea. I want you so bad I can't stand it."

She shoved her pants down before she took his wrist and pulled it away from her body, his fingertip sliding along her crevice one final time as she removed it and loudly moaned her approval at the resulting sensation. She turned in his arms, demandingly pulling the back of his neck down to bring his mouth to her neglected breast. Tugging her nipple into his mouth, he sucked progressively harder until her moans indicated her satisfaction, and she felt the pulsing of her inner muscles increase as her body threatened to come whether or not he was inside her. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he could make her orgasm just from anticipation and his mouth on her breast. But she wanted him, god she wanted _him_ , their bodies as close as they could possibly be.

She reached between them to unzip his jeans and found that he had already done so, his cock jutting from his pants. She wondered when he'd unzipped them, and how he had her so wrapped up in pleasure that she hadn't even noticed. He grabbed her thighs just below her ass and lifted her up, parting her legs so he could settle his hips between them, and her arms wound automatically around his neck. Her toes found his back pockets and pushed his pants down a little farther. The last thing she wanted to feel was denim rubbing at her thighs. She wanted him, his warm uncovered body, rougher in some places and softer in others, the brush of his hair against her smoother, more delicate skin.

"Finally," she gasped as she felt the tip of his sex slipping along her opening as he waited to be granted entrance.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, she pushed her hips forward, feeling his hand move between her thigh and his body to guide their union. Her body was so slick and welcoming that he pushed steadily into her without pause, moving with slow and patient persistence until he was completely sheathed inside her. He unsteadily stepped back toward the door, each stride bringing their bodies together as they gasped with excited anticipation. Her shoulders met the icy glass of the mirror when he pressed her against the door. Her hands grabbed his jaw, bringing his mouth to hers in a seething kiss, and when they breathlessly separated, he said, "You are the hottest, sexiest woman ever. I mean it."

Her mouth crushed to his again and, with his hands cradling her thighs, he withdrew from her body and thrust back inside with one long, deep motion. He did this only twice more, each time reaching the full depths of her as she felt her body clench in an engulfing surge of pleasure. Her cries of release filled the room, Kurt breathing lustily against her shoulder.

He moved more gently then, a few smaller, smoother shifts of his hips as her orgasm continued to consume her until her body reached satiation.

"Don't move," she said in a tense voice when her body had no choice but to demand a few moments to recover. Even as he remained still, she felt her body pulsing around his shaft, knowing that he was buried inside her like steel, still waiting for his own chance to dive over the edge.

As she started to consider her next move, she realized that he was probably going to be cocky about this, shattering her in a few thrusts, but when she felt his hand stretch across her lower back and hold her tightly in his embrace, she looked at him. She felt a momentary shiver when she saw the way he stared, without an ounce of smugness or victory. Instead she saw adoration. Love. Maybe even awe.

* * *

Kurt was torn between the desires of his body and the needs of his heart. His body was demanding, if he was totally honest with himself, _begging_ , for relief from the tension. His heart wanted to please the woman he loved more than he thought possible, and wait patiently for her rebound so maybe they could come together this time.

As he stared at her, his eyes probably betraying more than he really wanted to reveal, she said, "You're so insanely sexy."

He chuckled, pressing a tender kiss to her chin. "Then we're a great match."

"Put me down?" she requested, and he thought those words were the most painful that he'd ever heard.

"Sure," he answered, trying to very purposefully make his voice sound unaffected and at ease.

He pulled out her body, regretting every second of a withdraw that wouldn't be followed by plunging back into her body. He heard himself sigh, and it sounded a bit too much like a whimper for his liking, while he carefully lifted her and then placed her feet on the ground.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

Her eyes skated over him, a devilish smile finding her lips while she nodded slowly and moved him back a few steps before she turned behind him. He was facing the mirror now, and didn't like it nearly as much as when he was looking at her naked body in the reflection. She nudged his feet apart so he was closer to her height, and then she could easily see over his shoulder. He'd already stepped out of his pants, his erection protruding from beneath the shirt he still wore.

Reaching under his arms, her hands spread across his chest to his top button, and she started to undo each one, splitting open his shirt and sliding it from his shoulders. Her palms moved over his body, her nails grazing his nipples before smoothing over his abdomen. At least now her hands were moving in the right direction. But she bypassed his cock, her hands moving down over his thighs, and he finally said, his voice tight and low, "Honey, come on."

"What? It's my turn…or is it your turn? I'm not sure which really applies in this situation," she said, her exploration of his body as patient and thorough as his had been of hers.

"I'm already plenty turned on," he replied.

"I noticed," she replied, wrapping her right hand around the base of his shaft while the fingers of her other hand cupped his sac.

Her hand slid easily over his erection because she had been soaked and he had been inside her, her natural lubricants still coating him. She pumped subtly a few times near the tip before tightening her grip around him and stroking back down.

He opened his mouth to tell her that he couldn't possibly get any harder than he was already, and that he probably had about fifteen seconds of control left no matter what he tried to think about to distract himself, when she slipped under his arm and encouraged him down onto the rug in the middle of the floor.

She stepped over his legs and dropped into his lap, pushing his shoulders down toward the ground. He didn't even try to suppress his relieved groan when she rocked her hips down and allowed him back into her body.

His knees were bent slightly and she leaned back, her hips swiveling in his lap and granting him some of that tight, wet friction he'd needed beyond belief. He propped his torso up on his elbows so he could see, and she leaned back slightly and lifted away from him before sinking back down again. His eyes locked on their merging bodies and the way he disappeared into her.

He shifted his weight to one elbow, biting on his lip to try to keep some modicum of control for just a few moments longer. His free hand reached between her legs, his palm and fingers curling around the very top of her thigh while his thumb moved to her clit. He very gently brushed the tiny bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb, immediately rewarded by the clenching muscles inside her body that tried to squeeze him to completion.

Her expression didn't look so controlled anymore as she started to bounce more roughly against his pelvis, his hips lifting to thrust into her while his thumb continued nudging her closer. "I'm almost there," she cried out, repeating the words in a whisper a few times.

He dropped his back to the ground, no longer trying to hold his torso up, his other hand moving to her hip to speed up the pace while they drove their bodies together. He snapped, hard and furious after such a long and erotic delay. Her hands pushed against his chest while she rode him, moaning loudly before her moans came to an abrupt halt as he poured into her, and then they both collapsed into a heap on the floor.

He was still deep inside her, trying not to move too far so he could stay there a little while longer.

There were orgasms that met a need. Some that relieved tension. Some that were wonderfully mind-numbing. And then there were those that made him believe in a higher power. He thought Jane might be able to single-handedly make him a man of faith.

His hands moved over her back, from her thighs up over her neck as he held her close, feeling her body as the thudding of her heart radiated through her breast so he could actually feel it pushing against his own pulse.

She sat up a bit and sighed, "My fiancé…is insanely good in bed. I think that is the best orgasm I have ever had."

He smiled at her, sitting up as his knees fell open a bit and she remained against him. "Say that again."

Obviously humoring him, she whispered, "That was quite possibly the best orgasm I have ever had."

He chuckled, "I _really_ liked hearing that…but that's not what I meant."

"Oh," she said, momentarily perplexed as she tried to retrace her statement. Then it dawned on her as she nodded, "My fiancé?"

"Yea…that part."

"My fiancé is ridiculously good in bed," she affirmed.

"Mine too," he answered emphatically. "I can't wait to see how good my wife is in bed."

"Your wife?" she said, realities appearing to hit her.

"Yea. My wife." He took her hand, holding it near his chest.

He traced her naked finger, noting the spot where an engagement ring belonged but wasn't yet. It was an error he fully intended to remedy the next day when he'd take her to the store to find the ring that belonged there.


End file.
